A hazard to long distance venting...

No, I’m not talking central heat and air systems 101 today… as if I’m not already boring enough for most… lol.  But I want to point out a situation that I’ve personally seen and that I’ve seen in problem situations others have described to me.

We get irritated, but we keep our cool and hold our breath until it boils over and we have to let it out.  Sometimes we purposely make a call to a confidant and vent our frustrations while other times we tend to spew on the first person we come across who will lend us an ear. Venting is healthy and necessary, but remember that venting is letting out negative energy.  It helps us to process information and emotion verbally, and it allows us to analyze ourselves and our reactions while we talk out loud to someone outside the situation.

So, what’s the hazard then in venting?  It really depends on who we choose to vent to and how are they related to the situation- if at all.  Let me set this up for you.  Let's say a husband and wife are having a reoccurring issue come between them and they can’t seem to find a solution.  Let’s say it’s the wife spending too frivolously.  They argue about it a lot lately without much resolve.  The husband’s parents live 100 miles away, so they don’t have first-hand knowledge or witness too much of the couple’s marriage business.  The husband vents to his mother about the situation when she happens to call one day after he just had a tiff with  his wife about her spending.  And then he does this on several other occasions since then per happenstance... (he doesn't set out to call mom and complain, but in conversations it comes up).  Okay, where’s the danger in confiding in your parent about a problem you’re having with your spouse?  It could be here:   Mom is now seeing a different side to her daughter-in-law.  She’s forming opinions about her and making assumptions based solely on what she’s been told.  She doesn’t speak to her son often about his wife’s spending problem and honestly it may never come up again.  Mom is now watching and questioning every purchase her daughter-in-law makes (or that she hears about from 100 miles away) and mom assumes it’s spontaneous and frivolous.  In the meantime, the couple goes through a budgeting and financial class and gets a household budget in place.  Both follow it to a tee.  No more fights… complete financial/marital harmony.  Great solution!  But… no one tells the husband’s mom.  In mom’s mind the financial picture never changes.  There’s still money stress and strife, and mom unavoidably sees her daughter-in-law in a different way… through the lens or stereotype as a frivolous spender.  Only years later does mom find out that her daughter-in-law is actually quite good at managing her budget and shopping for her family’s needs... (by that time mom's opinion of her is a habit and will be very difficult to change regardless of the new information… the truth).  How we perceive someone inevitably plays a role in how we treat them or speak of them to others.  Seemingly harmless venting can be a hazard.  In this situation it’s hard for the mother-in-law to see his son’s wife in a positive light.  The true detriment is the strain it puts on the in-law relationship.

So, judgment and misperception are the hazards to venting.   Honestly, how many times to we go back when a situation finds a solution and inform the person we vented to of the change?  So many times, we’re so thankful for the relief from the stress it was creating, we want to be done with it while forgetting who we talked to about it.  And never do we think through the effects of our venting on the person we vented to. Think about it.  It makes sense.  Substitute any of the three people in this example… could be a parent venting to a grown child about another relative… a child venting to a grandparent about his parent… a child venting to a parent about a teacher or another child (a friend)… a parent venting to some third party about a person in her child’s life and her child overhearing it…  The possibilities are endless and the misunderstanding, misrepresenting, and misjudging are virtually unavoidable, and relationships are strained.  

Food for thought.

I am a product of the public school system...

And sadly, I am reminded of this over and over. 

One of the hardest parts of being a part of our small Christian school is that I was raised in the public school.  This is especially true when it comes to sports.  I come from a small community with a very strong winning tradition in our sports teams in the public school.  Win.  That's what we do... in a Friday-Night-Lights sort of way.  Win, win, win... at all costs. 

We left the public school system for a myriad of reasons but two near the top of the list were respect issues and the almighty holy grail of athletics.  Both of these issues are non-issues in our Christian school.  Praise the Lord.  But, I am still a product of the public school.  I can say it [winning sports matches doesn't matter] with my head and even believe it in my heart until the clock is ticking and it's game time.  The Lord has broken me in the area of sports.  My daughter, Regan's junior high volleyball and basketball teams over two years combined, might have won two or three games... and lost around 40.  Bad, lose.  Blowout, lose.  Our high school, on the other hand, is very athletic, has much success and can play with the best of them... boys and girls.  I keep thinking there's hope.  But that's where I'm still holding out for a sliver of pride, and probably not completely humbled.  The Lord keeps telling me, "It doesn't matter.  Really."

Last night was the season end for Regan's team until next fall.  I was ready for it to be over.  It really is painful to watch.  I see so much that could be done differently, better.... but at what cost?  Do I want my children to have the same handicap that my husband and I have... the win at all costs training?  Win, win, win. [ I must say, I think my husband had it as bad or worse than I did; his high school coach played NBA.]  No.  I don't want that, and I am so pleased with Regan's coach; he is a good man, a humble man.  As Christians we don't play the political games, we don't manipulate situations or bend rules to make our team have the advantage... our coach doesn't schmooze with the officials.  We play upright and take what we draw.  We don't throw huge amounts of money into our athletic department, and we don't pay our coach an outrageous sum of money.  That's how we want it.  That's why we left the public school system.  Oh, Lord, but why can't we win, too?  Keep chiseling, Lord.  You're almost there. 

Last night another hunk of chiseled off junk hit the floor.    You see, two of my daughters played basketball last night... from two different schools, one public, one private, in two different towns about 60 miles apart, at nearly the same time.  I sent Rosalind on the bus with the team and drove to Regan's last game.  Not long after we arrived home from Regan's game, the projected time of arrival for Rosalind's team was near, so I went to the school to wait on her.  After 30 minutes, she calls me (upset) and tells me that I have to be there to pick her up right when they arrive or she doesn't get to play in tomorrow's game.  What??  I reassured her that I would be there to get her, in fact, that I was already there waiting.  She said they'd be about 30 more minutes, so I decided to just wait... boiling.  Furious.  When she arrived and got in the truck, she went on to tell me that there were 13 kids on the bus... three had cell phones.  Right when he stepped on the bus, her coach told the players that their rides were to be there waiting for them or they wouldn't get to play tomorrow night because he didn't want to have to "do this" two nights in a row.   He didn't offer his phone.  He just threatened them.  Rosalind asked to borrow a phone from one of the three, and then called me.  Funny, he didn't seem to mention to them that he was an hour late from the estimated time of arrival that was printed on the note that he sent home.  I didn't get a call telling me they were running an hour behind schedule.... oh, yeah, silly me, my time doesn't matter.  I wanted to jerk him and his arrogant, disrespectful self up and give him a tongue lashing.  Two years and three months more of this disrespect.  This arrogance.  This manipulation of our children.  I honestly don't think we're going to make it through the end of my third daughter, Rayne's grade school years in the public school system.  There is just too much wrong.  Thank you, Lord, for another example.  I don't want to win.  I don't.  I am completely humbled.

Don't love the world's ways. Don't love the world's goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. The world and all its wanting, wanting, wanting is on the way out—but whoever does what God wants is set for eternity.  1 John 2 in The Message.

In honor of my grandmother...

This week my brother and I traveled to Iowa for my grandmother's funeral.  I had the honor of writing both her obituary and eulogy for the memorial service and the newspapers.  My aunts, uncle, parents, & brother were sitting around planning on Monday evening and talking about the service and assigning jobs to be completed.  We began questioning who should read the eulogy.  The preacher was suggested, but I shot that down immediately.  Someone said Rodney, but that was impossible- he was at home in Oklahoma with the rest of my family.  Dad asked me where the eulogy was... he wanted to see it.  I pointed to my head and said, "I haven't started yet."  After a bit Dad said he thought he could do it.  After giving that some serious thought, I decided that yes, he should do it.  Wayne took me home (to our hotel); Wayne went to bed and I began writing.  It came easily and right from Dad's mouth.  It was probably the easiest piece of writing I've ever written.  The day of the funeral he was nervous, but he wanted so badly to do it.  But minutes before the service began, he conceded.  I told him, "I'll do it for you, Dad..." .... because you can't, is what I didn't say.

I stood in front of my family and my grandmother's friends and read....

Mom was many, many things in her life to many different people.

Mom was a student. Being raised in Des Moines’ east side, when she married Dad, she was very much a city girl. She knew nothing about farm life and living in the country. Dad taught her everything. She’d never driven a car, let alone a truck or a tractor. She learned how to milk a cow and raise chickens. She sold eggs and tended a huge vegetable garden. With the disadvantage of losing her own mother at such a young age, Grandma Rose, Dad’s mom, taught her so many of the domestic chores of her day, and in essence became a “mother” to mom.


And mom was very resourceful. Every year we’d get 100 day old chicks to raise. Dad tried to teach her how to butcher the chickens, but his way just wasn’t working for her. He set up a log to use as a butcher block with a hatchet, but she had a tough time swinging the hatchet and getting the neck cut in one clean swing. He even set two nails into the log as guides to hold the chicken’s neck. It still wasn’t working. Mom decided to try it her way… she’d leave them on the ground, step on their heads and pull their bodies off their heads. Then she’d put them down and they’d flop around headless until they bled out. Twenty at a time, they’d do… mom and Barb. Barb would skin them and mom would gut them. We had baked chicken every Sunday. She was an excellent cook. At times she’d host Thanksgiving dinner for her family of 23 when we kids were young. She was a gracious hostess and my cousins loved coming to the farm and visiting Aunt Valda. They’d spend their whole vacation at the farm playing in the hog lots and corn cribs, driving the tractors, petting the chickens and enjoying mom’s cooking. All of them have fond memories of Aunt Valda and the farm.


Mom was a supporter. She worked hard on the farm and at being a mother. Monday was laundry and bread-baking day. She always had snacks ready for us when we got off the bus, but the cinnamon rolls were always the best. When we kids got a little older, she took a job cooking at Nickerson’s to help support the family. She always did what had to be done and she always found the strength to do it. People liked to talk to mom and seek her advice. She always told it like it was. And she was a good listener. In conversations with her, she was always fully engaged. She had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world. You could feel that she was genuinely interested in you and whatever you were sharing with her. For this reason, she made friends easily and created close bonds with her caregivers. They have expressed how much they loved her. She was very supportive of her family and showed it in many ways. When Barb hosted an open house for her first photography studio in Rogers, mom was there to support her. And when no one showed, she was there to cry with her in the hallway. Recently when Barb hosted her open house for the retreat center, mom was there with her making coffee, serving cookies, visiting with guests and making new friends. Mom always had a good word about her family… so proud of the way we turned out, but very humble in taking any credit for it.


Mom was a fighter. The list is long: She lost her mom at 13 years old. She outlived 2 husbands and has spent the last 40 some years living alone. She was a valiant fighter with her first diagnosis of cancer. Her treatment was so intense, someone half her age would have struggled. She beat it and was in remission for 4 years before it returned in a different area. Mom had a temper. Sometimes Dad liked to provoke her. One time while working on a pie, she got so mad at him that she wadded up some of the dough and threw it at him. It landed behind the hutch. It was still there, hard as a rock the day we moved. They never raised their voices at each other in anger. Well, not that we saw… not too sure how well Dad fared when her brand new frig slid off the back of the truck on his way home from the store, but besides that... She was a stubborn woman… sometimes to a fault… and sometimes to her benefit. Her biggest disappointment was losing Dad so early… too early. Every year since 1969, save one, she made the Memorial Day trip to the cemetery in Dexter, Minnesota. And every year Linda was with her and often times Ja, too. Mom was dedicated to her family and fought fiercely for them. She truly was the backbone of her family.


Mom enjoyed life… the simple things in life. She loved to travel and see new things. She collected various items from all the different places she’s been. She loved baseball and she loved the Atlanta Braves. She and her sister Kathy used to watch the games together over the phone. Mom was very talented. She loved creating beautiful things, and she was good at it. She really enjoyed all the planning and preparation that went into her work at HoJo’s as the banquet manager and she took pride in her work. She was amazing at crocheting and created hundreds of beautiful pieces. When Mom lived in Springfield, Al spent many Sunday afternoons visiting her. They’d spend the day driving around the area, sometimes they’d test-drive cars or go fishing. Mom loved to fish. And mom loved her life at Luther Park… everything about it. She enjoyed the activities and the people who lived there. They played cards and worked on puzzles. They checked on one another and encouraged each other. She was so appreciative and truly happy the last year of her life. She wanted more time… she wanted to beat this cancer one more time and live out her days with her new friends.


Mom was so many things to so many people… a student, a provider, an encourager and listener, a fighter and a lover. Mom never signed a letter or let you off the phone without telling you, “Love you, kid.” My mom was truly amazing.


I was honored to do this for my grandmother's memory and for my dad (and his siblings) who loved her very much.


Pictures from our trip to Iowa in July 2010... good times.


July 21, 2010, she turned 80 years old



My family with Grandma Val



Rosalind and Rayne in July at Grandma's birthday party



 Regan with Rayne, grandpa Denny, uncle Al, and daddy in the background




Good times are times spent laughing together with those we love



8 family members are missing from this picture this day



The kids with their mom.  They lost their dad in 1969 when they were all teenagers.





We spent some time singing and playing music for grandma before we left Iowa that day.  She really enjoyed that.